Milo West rises from behind his desk as soon as I step through his office door. His salt-and-pepper hair is meticulously styled, his mouth is etched with frown lines from too many long nights at the office.
“You haven’t been answering my calls.”
I roll my eyes at his stern words, bending to let Boo off his leash so he’s free to roam the office. As soon as the latch unclips he’s off like a shot, smelling every piece of furniture on the 27th floor.
“Yeah, well, it’s been kind of hard to keep in touch, ever since a mobster chucked my iPhone into the Atlantic.”
His face pales a little. He opens his mouth to say something else, but the words die in his throat as Nate and Parker step through the entryway behind me. I shuffle awkwardly into his hyper-organized domain to give them some room. The CEO suite is all white and glass — so sterile just stepping foot inside makes me feel like a bull in a china shop, liable to break something without even trying.
“Parker.” There’s surprise in my father’s voice — a rare emotion from him. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Dad.” Parker shoves his hands in his pockets and surveys the space, whistling under his breath. “Nice office. This Wolf of Wall Street act must be paying off.”
“And what act are you playing?” Milo asks coldly. “The ungrateful son? The whore-mongering wastrel?”
A long-buried ache stirs in my chest, seeing the two of them at odds. I can’t remember the last time they were in the same room.
Parker’s hands fist inside his pockets and a chilling smile crosses his lips. “Don’t hold back to spare my feelings.” He scoffs. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“Oh, believe me—”
“Believe you? You?!” Parker laughs, but it sounds almost like a snarl. “That’s rich, Pop.”
“You’re just as disrespectful as I remember. I should—”
“Mr. West,” Nate cuts in before the situation can escalate to bloodshed. “We’re here to talk about Keegan MacDonough.”
The power of that name alone makes everyone fall silent.
Dad’s eyes move to Nate for the first time since we arrived. I can see the wheels turning in his mind as he tries to come up with a name to match the face of his children’s closest childhood friend, a boy who spent more days at our Nantucket estate than he ever did. A name a normal parent could recall within nanoseconds.
“Nathaniel,” Milo says finally, a smug smile playing at his mouth when he finally pulls the name from his memory banks. “Nathaniel Knox.”
Nate nods tightly.
“I had lunch with your father a few weeks ago.”
Nate says nothing.
Milo’s eyes narrow. “He didn’t mention you still lived in the area.”
“He doesn’t know.” Tension stiffens Nate’s shoulders. “We don’t keep in touch.”
My heart falters at that information and a pang of sympathy shoots through me. Nate’s never been close to his family — his relationship with his father makes Milo and Parker’s bond look like an ad for Hallmark — but I’m surprised to hear he’s cut them out of his life completely.
The three men stare at each other, a trifecta of tension. It’s so awkward, I’d like nothing more than to edge slowly backward out of the room and make a run for it. Unfortunately, that’s not an option.
Clearing my throat, I step into the middle of the office.
“Enough. You’re all acting like babies.” I turn to address my father first. “I’m sure you already know the basics but, to recap — three days ago I was kidnapped by some seriously scary dudes who have a bone to pick with you. Personally, I would really not like to repeat the experience. One black eye is enough for a lifetime.”
His face softens as he stares at the fading bruise beneath my eye makeup. “I didn’t think they’d come after you. I’m sorry, Phoebe. Truly.”
Parker scoffs. “Sorry doesn’t mean shit when your daughter’s been kidnapped and beaten.”
“Parker,” I admonish. “Blaming Dad won’t help things.”